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BROAD GRINS; 

BY 

GEORGE COLMAN, 

(THE YOUNGER;) 
COMPRISING, WITH NEW ADDITIONAL 

TALES IN VERSE, 

THOSE FORMERLY PUBLISHED UNDER THE TITLE OF 

'MY NIGHTGOWN AND SLIPPERS J p 



DEME SUPERCILIO NUBEM." 



OTctxefe ? 

PRINTED BY ISAIAH THOMAS, JUN. 

•SOLD BY HIM, AND BY B. Q J. HOMANS, AND E. LARKIN, 
BOSTON, AND BY THOMAS & WHIPPLE, NEWBURYPORT, 



January 18C4, 









f 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



NlY Booksellers informed me, lately, that 
fever al inquiries had been made for My Night- 
gown, and SLiPPERS<—but that every copy had 
been fold : — They had been out oj print thefe two 

years " Then publiflt them again" faidl bold- 

ly....(I print at my own rifkj..,and with an air 
of triumph. Mefjirs. Cabell & Da vies advif 
edme to make additions li The Work is, re- 
ally, too fhort" faidMeffrs. Cabell & Davies. 
..." / wifh, gentlemen" returned I, " my readers 
were of your opinion" li T protejl Sir" faid they, 
(and they afjerted it, both together, with great em~ 



IV 



phafisj "you have but Three Tales "...I told 
them, carelefsly, it was enough for the greatefl 
Bashaw, among modern poets, and wijli'd them a 
good morning. When a man, as Sterne obferves, 
" can extricate himfelj with an equivoque, in 
Juch an unequal match" .../and two bookfellers 
to one poet are tremendous odds).." he is not ill 
off "...but refletling a little, as I went home, I 
began to think my pun was a vile one... and did not 
ojfifi me, one jot, in my argument ;...and, now I 
have put it upon paper, it appears viler fill ;...it 

is execrable So, without much further reafon" 

vng, I fat down to rhyming ;... rhyming, as the 
reader will fee, in open defiance oj all reason 
...except the reafons oj Mefjrs. C a dell & Da- 
vies. 



Thus, you have My Nightgown and Slip- 
pers, with Additions, converted to Broad 
Grins ;.. .and 'tis well if they may not end in 
Wide Yawns, at lajl ! Should this be the cafe, 
gentle Reviewers, do not, ungratefully, attempt to 
break ?,?/fleep, (you will find it labor loft J becaufe 
I have contributed to your's. 

GEORGE COLMAN, (the Younger.) 

May, 1803. 



A OM, Dick and WrLL, were little known to Fame j 

No matter ; ■ 

But to the Alehouse, oftentimes, they came, 
To chatter. 

It was the custom of these three 
To sit up late ; 
And, o'er the embers of the Alehouse fire, 
When steadier customers retire, 
The choice Triumviri, d'ye see, 
Held a debate. 



8 



Held a debate ?— On politics, no doubt. 
Not so ; they cared not who was in, 

No, not a pin 

Nor who was out. 

All their discourse on modern Poets ran ; 

For in the Muses was their sole delight :— 
They talk'd of such, and such, and such a man 5 

Of those who could, and those who could not write* 

It cost them very little pains 
To count the modern Poets, who had brains^ 
Twasj small difficulty ;— 'twasn't any $. 
They were so few s 



But to cast up the scores of meu 
Who wield a stump they call a pen> 
Lord ! they had much to do, 
They were so many ! 

SuoyM on a sea of fancy, Genius rises, 
And like the rare Leviathan surprises ; 
But the small fry of scribblers ! — tiny soul& \ 
They wriggle thro* the mud in shoals. 

It would have raised a smile to see the faces 
They made, and the ridiculous grimaces, 

At many an Author, as they overhaul'd hira> 
They gave no quarter to a Calf, 
Blown up with puff, and paragraph ; 

But, if they found him bad,, they mauPd hinii 



On modern Dramatists they fell, 
Pounce, w et armis — tooth and nail — pell melL 
They call'd them Carpenters, and Smugglers ; 
Filching their incidents from ancient hoards, 
And knocking them together, like deal boards : 

And Jugglers $ 
Who all the town's attention fix, 
By making — Plays ? — No Sir ; by making tricks. 

The Versifiers — Heaven defend us ! 

They play'd the very devil with their rhymes. 

They hoped Apollo a new set would send us j— 

And then, invidiously enough, 

Placed modifh verse, which they call'd stuff, 
-Againft the writings of the elder times. 



11 

To say the truth, a modern versifier, 

Clapp'd cheek by jowl 
'With Pope, with Dryden, and with Prior, 
Would look damn'd scurvily, upon my soul 1 

For Novels, should their critic hints succeed, 
The Misses might fare better, when they took 'em^j 

But it would fare extremely ill, indeed, 
With gentle Messieurs Zane, and Hookham. 

u A Novel, now," says Will, "is nothing more • 
" Than an old castle — and a creaking door— 

" A distant hovel— 
*' Clanking of chains— a gallery — a light— 
A< Old armour— and a phantom all in white— 

" And there's a Novel ! 



, 



12 

*' Scourge me such catchpenny inditera 

"Out of the land," quoth Will r ousing irs. 

passion - 

*' And fie upon the readers of such writers, 

" Who bring them into fashion ! 

Will rose in declamation. " *Tis the bane,'* 
Says he, " of youth ; — 'tis the perdition : 

" It fills a giddy female brain 

" With vice, romance, luft, terror, pain — 
" With superstition* 

" Were I Pastor in a boardingschool, 

** I'd quash such books in toto ; — if I couldn't,. 

u Let me but catch one Miss that broke my rule, 
" I'd flog her soundly i damme if I wouldn't,"' 



13 

William, 'tis plain, was getting in a rage ; 

But, Thomas dryly said — for he was cool— • 
Ki I think no gentleman would mend the age 

" By flogging Ladies at a Boardingschool." 

Dick knock' d the ashes from his pipe, 

And said, " Friend Will, 
** You give the Novels a fair wipe ; 

« But still, 
*' While you, my friend, with paffion run : cm dowfy 
** They're in the hands of all the town. 

** The reason's plain," proceeded Dick, 

" And simply thus 

** Ta^te, overgluttcd, grows depraved, and sick, 

M And needs a stimulus* 



" Time was, (when honest Fielding writ); — 

" Tales full of Nature, Character and Wit, 
•* Were reckon'd most delicious boil'd and roast : 

u But stomachs are so cloy'd with novelfeedingj. 

" Folks get a vitiated taste in reading, 
u And want that strong, provocative, a Ghost. 

" Or, to come nearer, 

€i And put the case a little clearer : — 
61 Minds, just like bodies, suffer enervation, 

" By too much use ; 
" And sink into a state of relaxation, 

" With long abuse. 

" Now,,a Romance, with reading Debauchees,. 

" Rouses their torpid powers, when Nature fails ;. 

u And all these Legendary Tales 
" Are ? to a wornout mind r Cantharides» 



*5 

u But how to cure the evil ? you will say t 
u My Recipe is — laughing it away. 

" Lay bare the weak farrago of those men 
" Who fabricate such visionary schemes, 

u As if the Nightmare rode upon their pen, 

" And troubled all their ink with hideous dreams, 

u For instance— when a solemn Ghost stalks in, 

*' And, thro' a mystic tale is busy, 
u Strip me the Gentleman unto his skin— 
" What is he ? 

u Truly, ridiculous enough : 

" Merc trash j— and very childish stuff, 

" Draw but a Ghost, or Fiend, oflozv degree.) 
u And all the bubble's broken ;— Let us sec :*' 



THE 

MAID of the MOOR, 

OR 

THE WATBRFIENDS. 

\Jn a wild Moor, all brown and bleak, 
Where broods the heathfrequenting grouse, 

There stood a tenement antique ; 

Lord Hoppergollop's country house?* 



Here Silence reign'd with lips of glue, 
And undisturb'd maintain'd her law ; 

Save when the Owl cry'd " whoo ! whco ! whoo !'* 
Or the hoarse Crow croak'd u caw ! caw ! caw !" 



17 

Neglefted mansion !— for, 'tis said, 
Whene'er the snow came feathering down, 

Four barbed steeds— from the Bull'* head,— - 
Carried thy master up to town, 



Weak Hoppergollop !— -Lords may moan, 
Who stake, in London, their estate, 

On two, small, rattling, bits of bone j 
On little figure t or on great. 



Swift whirl the wheels, — He's gone.—- a Rose 
Remains behind, whose virgin look, 

Unseen, must blush in wintry snows, 

Sweet, beauteous blossom !— -'twas the Cook ! 

B 



i8 

A bolder far than my" weak note, 
Maid of the Moor ! thy charms demand 

Eels might be proud to lose their coat, 
If skinn'd by Molly Dumpling's hand* 



Long had the fair one sat alone, 
Had none remain'd save only she j — 

She by herself had been — if one 
Had not been left, for company. 



>Twas a tall youth, whose cheek's clear hue 
Was tinged with health, and manly toil ;-— 

Cabbage he sow'd ; and, when it grew, 
He always cut it off, to boil. 



!9 

Oft would he cry " Delve, Delve the hole I 
" And prune the tree, and trim the root \ 

u And stick the wig upon the pole, 

" To scare the sparrows from the fruit !" 



A small, mute favorite, by day, 

Follow'd his step ; where'er he wheeh 

His barrow round the garden gay, 
A bobtail cur is at his heels. 



Ah, man ! the brute creation see ! 

Thy constancy oft needs the spur ! 
While lessons of fidelity 

Are found in every bobtail cur. 



20 

Hard toil'd the youth, so fresh and strong, 
"While Bobtail in his face would look, 

And mark'd his master troll the song— 
« Sweet Molly Dumpling ! Oh, thou Cook V 



For thus he sung ;— while Cupid smiled ;— ~ 
Pleased that the Gard'ner own'd his dart, 

Which pruned his passions, running \vild> 
And grafted truelove on his heart. 



Maid of the Moor 1 his love return ! 

True love ne'er tints the cheek with shame 
When Gard'ners' hearts, like hotbeds, btiffr 

A Ccok may surely feed the flame, 



21 

Ah ? not averse from love was she ; 

Tho' pure as Heaven's snowy flake ; 
Both loved ; — and, tho' a Gard'ner he. 

He knew not what it was to rake. 



Cold blows the blast ; — the night's obscure 
The mansion's crazy wainscoats crack : 

No star appear'd ; — and all the Moor, 
Like ev'ry other Moor — was black. 



Alone, pale, trembling, near the fire. 
The lovely Molly Dumpling sat ; 

Much did she fear, and much admire 
What Thomas Gard'ner could be at. 



22 

List'ning, her hand supports her chin 
But, ah ! no foot is heard to stir : 

He comes not, from the garden, in j 
Nor he, nor little Bobtail cur„ 



They cannot come, sweet maid ! to thee; 

Flesh, both of cur and man, is grass ! 
A.nd what's impossible, can't be j 
And never, never, comes to pass ! 



She paces thro' the hall antique, 
To call her Thomas from his toil ; 

Ope's the huge door ; — the hinges creak ;- 
Because the hinges wanted oil. 



23 

Thrice, on the threshold of the hall, 

She u Thomas !" cried, with many a sob , 

And, thrice, on Bobtail did she call, 
Exclaiming, sweetly—" Bob ! Bob! Bob!' 



Vain maid ! a Gard'ner's corpse, 'tis faid> 
In answers can but ill fucceed ; 

And, dogs that hear, when they are dead, 
Are very cunning Dogs indeed ! 



Back thro' the hall she bent her way ; 

All, all was solitude around ! 
The candle shed a feeble ray— 

Tho' a large mould of four to tli' pound. 



24 

Full closely to the fire she drew ; 

Adown her cheek a salt tear stole ; 
When, lo ! a coffin out there flew, 

And in her apron burnt a 'hole \ 



Spiders their busy deathwatch tick'd j 
A certain sign that Fate will frown ; 

The clumsy kitchen clock, too, click'd 
A certain sign it was not down. 



More strong and strong her terrors rose J> 
Her shadow did the maid ajfrpal j— « 

She trembled at her lovely ntfse, 

It look'd so long againft the v 



2 5 

Up to her chamber, damp and cold, 
She climb'd Lord Hoppergollop's stair ;- 

Three stories high — long, dull, and old, — 
As srreat Lords stortes often are, 



All Nature now appear'd to pause ; 

And " o'er the one half world seem'd dead j M 
No " curtain'd sleep 5 ' had she ; because 

She had no curtains to her bed. 



List'ning she lay ; with iron din, 

The clock ftruck T^v^nje ; the door flew wide ; 
When Thomas, grimlyj||;lided in, 

With little Bobtail bv his side, 



26 

Tall, like the poplar, was his size ; 

Green, green his waistcoat was, as leeks j 
Red, red as beet root were his eyes ; 

Pale, pale, as turnips, were his cheeks ! 



Soon as the Spectre she espied, 

The fear struck damsel faintly said, 

4t What wou'd my Thomas ?" — he replied; 
** Oh ! Molly Dumpling I I am dead." 



" All in the flower of youth I fell, 
Cut off with health's full blossom crown'd j. 

I was not ill — but in a well I 
I tumbled backwards, and was drown'd." 



2 7 

"Four fathom deep thy love doth lye ; 

His faithful dog his fate doth share j 
We're Fiends ;-— this is not he and I j 

We are not here — for we are there " 



" Yes ; — two foul Water Fiends are we ; 

Maid of the Moor ! attend us now ! 
Thy hour's at hand ; — we come for thee !*.' 

The little Fiend cur said " bow wow !'* 



J ' To wind her in her cold, cold grave, 
A Holland sheet a maiden likes ; 

A sheet of water thou shalt have 5 
Such sheets there are in Holland Dykes," 



28 

The Fiends approach ; the Maid did shrink ; 

Swift thro' the night's foul air they spin ; 
They took her to the green well's brink, 

And, with a souse, they plump'd her in. 



So true the fair, so true the youth, 
Maids, to this day, their story tell : 

And hence the proverb rose, that Trtjte 
Lies in the bottom of a well. 



29 

Dick ended :— Tom and Will approved his drains 

And thought his Legend made as good a figure 
As naturalizing a dull German's brains, 

Which beget issues in the Heliconian stews. 
Upon a profligate Tenth Muse, 
In all the gloomy impotence of 'vigor.* 

"•• 'Twasnow the very witching time of night, 

When Profers yawn." — Discussion grew diffuse. ; 
Argument's carte and tierce were lost, outright ; 
And they fought loose, 



* N. B, Half our mouern Legends are • »'<'.' i b»r*< i 
translated from the German, 



3° 

Says Will, quite carelessly—" the ether day, 
As I was lying on my back, 
In bed, 
I took a fancy in my head j — 
Some writings areivt so difficult as people say j— 
They are a knack.'* 

(l What writings ? whose ?" says Tom — raking the cin- 
ders. 

° Many," cried Will : "For inftance Peter 

Pindar's." 

" What ! call you his # knack ? — " yes j — mind hie 
measure. 

"In that lies half the point that gives us pleasure. 

" Pooh !— 'tisn't that," Dick cried ?— 
" That has been tried, 



3i 



Over and over i — Bless your souls ! 
3 Tis seen in Crazy Tales, and twenty things beside s 
His measure is as old as Poles." 

" Granted," cries Will : "I know I'm speaking trea- 

# 
son : — 

For Peter, 

With many a joke, and queer conceit, doth feafon 

His metre j 

** And this 1*11 say of Peter, to his face, 
As 'twas, time past, of Vanbrugh writ — 

Peter has often wanted grace. 
But he has never wanted luit. 

" Yet I will tell you a plain tale, 

And see how far quaint measure will prevail."" 



THE 

NEWCASTLE APOTHECARY, 

J\ MAN, in many a country town, we know, 

Professes openly with Death to wrestle ; 
r Ent'ring the field against the grimly foe, 
-Arm'd with a mortar and a pestle. 

Yet, some affirm no enemies they are ; 
But meet juft like prize fighters, in a Fair, 
"Who first shake hands before they box, 
Then give each other plaguy knock 
With all the love and kindnefs of a brother : 

So (many a fuff'ring Patient faith) 
■ ' Tho' the Apothecary fights with Death, 
-Still thev're sworn friends to one another. 



33 

A member of this iEsculapian line, 
Lived at Newcastle upon Tyne : 
No man could better gild a pill ; 

Or make a bill ; 
Or mix a draught, or bleed, or blister j 
Or draw a tooth out of your head ; 
Or chatter scandal by your bed ; 

Or give a clyster. 

Of occupations these were quantum suff, : 
Yet, still, he thought the list not long enough ; 

And therefore Midwifery he chose to pin to't. 
This balanced things ; — for if he huri'd 
A few score mortals from the world, 

H<2 made amends by bringing others into'to 



34 

His fame, full six mileswiind the country ran; 

In short, in reputation he was solus j 
All the old women call'd him " a fine man l* 

His name was Bolus. 

Benjamin Bolus, tho' in trade, 
(Which oftentimes will Genius fetter) 

Read works of fancy, it is said ; 
And cultivated the Belles Letters. 

And why should this be thought so odd ? 

Can't men have taste who cure a phthysic ? 
Of Poetry tho' Patron God, 

Apollo patronises Physic. 



35 



Bolus loved verse ; — and toofefco much delight in't, 
That his prescriptions he resolved to write in't. 

No opportunity he e'er let pass 

Of writing the directions, on his labels, 

In dapper couplets — like Gay's Fables ; 
Or, rather, like the lines in Hudibras. 

Apothecary's verse ! — and where's the treason ? 

'Tis simply honest dealing ; — not a crime ;— 
When Patients swallow physic without reason, 

It is but fair to give a little rhyme. 

He had a Patient lying at death's door, 

Some three miles from the town — it might be four ; 



36 



To whom, one evening, Bolus sent an article^ 
In Pharmacy, that's call'd cathartical. 

And, on the label of the stuff, 

He wrote this verse ; 
Which, one would think, was clear enough, 

And terse :— 



" When taken % 

To be well shaken" 



Next morning, early, Bolus rose ; 
And to the Patient's house he goes ;— 

Upon his pad, 
Who a vile trick of stumbling hfel : 



- 37 

It was, indeed, a very sorry hack ; 

But that's of course : 

For what's expected from a horse,. 
With an Apothecary on his back ? 

Bolus arrived ; and gave a doubtful tap j-— 
Between a single and a double rap. — 

Knocks of this kind 
Are given by Gentlemen who teach to dance 

By Fiddlers, and by Opera singers : 
One loud, and then a little one behind ; . 
As if the knocker fell, by chance, 

Out of their fingers, 

) 



3 8 



The Servant lets him in, with dismal face, 
Long as a courtier's cut of place — 

Portending some disaster ; 
John's countenance as rueful look'd, and grim, 
As if th' Apothecary had physic'd him — 

And not his master. 

" Well, how's the Patient ?" Bolus said — 

John shook his head. 
" Indeed ! — hum ! ha ! — that's very odd ! 
He tcck the draught ?" — John gave a nod. 
" Well — how ? — what then ? — speak out you dunce !.' 
"Why then" — says John — "we shook him once." 
•' Shook him ! — how ?" — Eolus stammer'd cut :— • 

" We jolted him about." 



39 



s * Zounds ! shake a Patient, man !— a shake won't do." 
•* No, Sir — and so we gave him two." 

<l Two shakes ! od's curse ! 

'Twould make the Patient worse." 
" It did so, Sir ! — and so a third we tried." 
"Well, and what then?" — "then, Sir, my master 
died." 



Kre Will had done 'twas waxing wond'rous late ; 

And reeling Bucks the street began to scour ; 
While guardian Watchmen, with a tottering gait^ 

Cried every thing, quite clear, except the hour, 

** Another pot," says Tom, "and then 

A Song ;■— and so good-night, good Gentlemen. I s ' 



4° 

" I've Lyrics, such as Bon Vivants indite, 
In which your bibbers of Champagne delight. 
The Poetaster, bawling them in clubs, 

Obtains a miserably noted name ; 
And every noisy Bacchanalian dubs 

The Singing Writer with a bastard Fame." 



LODGINGS 

FOR 

SINGLE GENTLEMEN. 

VV HO has e'er been in London, that overgrown 

place, 
Has seen " Lodgings to Let" stare him full in the face : 
Some are good, and let dearly ; while some, 'tis well 

known, 
Are so dear, and so bad, they are best let alone. 

WILL WADDLE, whose temper was studious, and 

lonely, 
Hired lodgings that took Single Gentlemen only ; 
But Will was so fat he appear'd hke a ton ; — • 
Or like two Single Gentlemen, roll'd into One, 



42 

He enter'd his rooms, and to bed he retreated 'j. 
But, all the night long, he felt fever d, and heated ; 
And, tho' heavy to weigh, as a score of fat sheep, 
He was not, by any means, heavy to sleep. 

Next night 'twas the same ! — and the next ; — and the 

next ; 
He perspired like an ox ; he was nervous, and vex'd ; 
Week pass'd after week ; till, by weekly succession. 
His weakly condition was past all expression. 

In six months, his acquaintance began much to dcub't 

him ; 
For his skin, " like a lady's loose gown, u hung about, 

him ; 



43 

He sent for a Doctor ; and cried, like a ninny, 
" I. have lost many pounds — make me well — there's a 
guinea." 

The Doctor look'dwise ; — "a slow fever," he said : 
Prescribed sudorifics — and going to bed. 
" Sudorifics in bed," exclaim'd Will, " are humbugs ; 
* £ I've enough of them there, without paying for drugs.'* 

Will kick'd out the Doctor ; — but, when ill indeed, 
E'en dismissing the Doctor don't al<wcys succeed ; 
So, calling his host — he said — " Sir, do you know, 
" I'm the fat Single Gentleman, six months ago I 

*' Look'e, landlord,. I think," argued Will, with a gr.in^ 
**-That with honest intentions you first took me in ; 



44 



But from the first night — and to say it I'm bold — 
I have been so damn'd hot, that I'm sure I caught 
cold." 



Quoth the landlord — " till now, I ne'er had a dispute ; 
I've let lodgings ten years ; — I'm a Baker to boot ; 

In airing your sheets, Sir, my wife is no sloven ; 

And your bed is immediately — over my Oven." 

"The Oven ! ! !" says Will— says the host, " why 

this passion ? 
In that excellent bed died three people of fashion. 
Why so crusty, good, Sir, ?" "Zounds !" — cries 
Will, in a taking, 
" Who would'nt be crusty, with half a year's baking ? :r 



45 



Will paid for his rooms j — cried the host, with a 

sneer 
"Well, I see you've been going anxay half a year/* 
*' Friend, we can't well agree" — " yet no quarrel"— « 

Will said j— 
*** But I'd rather not perish , while you make your 

■breads * 



'* This is the cooclufion of all that was originally printed 
m«der the title of '« My Nightgown and Sliders/' 



THE 



KNIGHT and the FRIAR. 



PART FIRST. 



IN our Fifth Harry's reign, when 'twas the fashion 
To thump the French, poor creatures ! to excess ; — 

Tho' Britons, now a days, show more compassion, 
And thump them, certainly, a great deal less j — 

In Harry's reign, when flush'd Lancastrian roses 
Cf York's pale blossoms had usurp'd the right ;* 

As wine drives Nature out of drunkards' noses, 
Till red, triumphantly, eclipses white ; 



* Roses were not emblems of faction, cries the Critic, tii! 

the reign of Henry the Sixth Pooh !... This is a figure, 

Hot an anachronism. Suppose, Mr, Critic, you, and all 



47 

In Harry's reign — but let me to my song, 

Or good king Harry's reign may seem too long. 

Sir Thomas Erpingham, a gallant knight, 
When this king Harry went to war, in France, 
Girded a sword about his middle ; 
Resolving, very lustily, to fight, 

And teach the Frenchmen how to dance, 
Without a fiddle. 

And wond'rous bold Sir Thomas proved in battle. 

Performing prodigies with spear and shield j 
His valor, like a murrain among cattle, 

Was reckon'd very fatal in the field. 



your descendants should be hang'd, although your father 
died ia his bed :...Why then pollerity, when talking of your 
father, may allude to the family gallows, which his issue shall 
have render'd notoriously symbolical of his House. 



4 8 



Yet, tho' Sir Thomas had an iron fist, 
He was, at heart, a mild Philanthropist. 

Much did he grieve, when making Frenchmen die 7 

% To any inconvenience to put J em : 
<* It quite distressed his feelings," he would cry, 

" That he must cut their throats," and, then hs 

cut 'em. 

Thus, during many a Campaign, 
Ke cut, and grieved, and cut, and came again ; — 

Pitying, and killing ;■ . 

'Lamenting, sorely, for men's souls, 
While pretty little eyelet holes, 

Clean thro' their bodies, he kept drillii 



49 

'Till palling on his Laurels, grown so thick, 
(As boys pull blackberries, 'till they are fick) 

Homeward he bent his course, to wreath f em 
And, in his Castle, near fair Norwich town. 
Glutted with glory, he sat down, 

In perfect solitude, beneath 'em. 

Now, sitting under Laurels, Heroes say, 
Gives grace, and dignity — and so it may— 

When men have done campaigning ; 
Hut, certainly, these gentlemen must own 
That sitting under Laurels, quite alone, 

Is much more dignified than entertaining-. 



5° 

Pious ./Eneas, who, in his narration, 
Of his own prowess, felt so great a charm j— - . 

(For, tho' he feign' d great grief in the relation, 
He made the story longer than your arm ;*) 

Pious JEneas no more pleasure knew 

Than did our Knight — who could be pious too — 

In telling his exploits, and martial brawls : 
But pious Thomas had no Dido near him — 
No Q,ueen — King, Lord, nor Commoner to hear him- 

So he was forced to tell them to the walls : 



* " Quis talia fanlo 

Temperet a lackrymis f" 

says .dEneas, by way of proem ; yet, for a Hero, tolerably 
"used to the melting^nood," he talks, on this occasion, 
much more than he cries i^pd. though he begins with a wood- 
en Horse, and gives a general account of the burning of Troy, 
still the " quorum / ','' is. evidently, the great in- 



5 * 

And to his Castle walls, in solemn guise, 
The knight, full often, did soliloquize ;— 

For "Walls have ears," Sir Thomas had been told 
Yet thought the tedious hours would seem mud 
shorter, 

If, now and then, a tale he could unfold 
To ears of flesh and blood, not stone and mortar. 

At length, his old Castellum grew so dull, 
That legions of Blue Devils seized the Knight ; 

Megrim invested his belaurell'd skull ; 
Spleen laid embargoes on his appetite j— 



ducemcnt to his chattering :....UAccordingly, he keeps up 
Queen Dido, to a scandalous &k hour, after supper, for the 
good folks of Carthage, to tell her an egotistical story, that 
occupies two whole books of the yEneid.'....Oh, these He- 
roes ! I once knew a worthy General., .but I won't tell 

that story. 



52 

Till, thro' the day time, he was haunted, wholly, 
By all the imps of u loathed Melancholy !"— 

Heaven keep her, and her imps, for ever, from 

us ! 

And *Incubus, whene'er he went to bed, 
Sat on his stomach, like a lump of lead, 

Making unseemly faces at Sir Thomas. 

Plagues such as these might make a Parson swear ; 

Sir Thomas, being but a Layman, 
Swore, very roundly, a la militaire y 

Or, rather, (from vexation) like a Drayman : 

* Far be it from mc to offer a pedantic affront to the 
Gentlemen -who peruse me, by explaining the word Incubus : 
which Piiny, and others, **nore learnedly, call Ephialtes :...!, 
modestly, state it to mean <he Nightmare, for the information 
«»f the Ladies. The chief symptom, by which this affliction 
i!s \ ulgarly known, is a heavy pressure upon the stomach, 
i lying in a supine posture, in bed. It would terrify 



53 

Damning bis Walls, out of all line and level 5 

Sinking his drawbridges, and moats ; 
Wishing that he were cutting throats 

And they were at the devil. 

"What's to be done," Sir Thomas said, one day, 
" To drive Ennui away ? 
How is the evil to be parried ? 
What can remind me of my former life ?— — • 
Those happy days I spent in noise, and strife !" 

The last words struck him :■ " Zounds" says he, 

" a Wife !" 

And so he married. 



some of my fair readers, who never experienced this charac- 
teristic of the Incubus, were I to dwell on its effefts ; and it 
would irritate others, who are in the habit of laboring under 
its sensations. 



54 

Muse ! regulate your pace ; — 
Restrain, awhile, your frisking, and your giggling ! 

Here is a stately Lady in the case ; — 
We mustn't now, be fidgetting, and niggling. 

O God of Love ! Urchin of spite and play ! 

Deserter, oft, from saffron Hymen's quarters ; 
His torch bedimming, as thou runn'st away, 

Till half his Votaries become his Martyrs ! 

Sly, wandering God ! whose frolic arrows pass 

i 
Thro' hearts of Potentates, and Prentice boys ; 

Whomark'st, with Milkmaids' forms,the tell tale grass, 

And makest the fruitful Prude repent her joys !./ 



55 

Drop me one feather, from thy wanton wing, 
Young God of dimples ! in thy roguish flight ! 

And let thy Poet catch it, now, to sing, 
The beauty of the Dame, who won the Knight ! 

Her beauty ! — but Sir Thomas's own Sonnet 
Seats all that I can say upon it. 



*SIR THOMAS ERPINGHAM's 

SONNET, 
ON HIS LADY. 



Sua 



>UCH starlike lustre lights her Eyes, 
■ They must have darted from a Sphere, 
Our duller System to surprise, 

Outshining all the Planets here ; 
And, having wander'd from their wonted placs, 
Fix in the wond'rous Heaven of her Face. 

* An old Gentlewoman, a great admirer of the *£lac& 
^Cttcr, (as many old Gentlewomen arc) presented the Author 
of these Tales with the Original M. S. of this Sonnet ; advising 
the publication of zjac simile of the Knight's hand writing. 
It is painful, after this, to advance, that theSonnet, so far from 
being genuine, is one of the clumsiest literary forgeries, th2t 
the present times have witnessed. It appears, in this authentic 
Story, that Sir Thomas Erpingham was married in the reign of 
Henry the Fifth ; and it is, evidently, intended, that Mofern ; 



57 



2 

The modest Rose, whose blushes speak. 

The ardent kisses of the Sun, 
Off' ring a tribute to her Cheeky 

Droops, to perceive its Tint outdone ; 
Then withering with envy, and despair, 
Dies on her Lips, and leaves its Fragrance there. 

ihould believe he writ these love verses almost immediately 
after his marriage.. .not only from the ardor with which he 
celebrates the beauty of his Wife, but from the circumstance 
i/f a man writing any love verses upon his wife, at all *...But 
the style, and language of the lines, are most glaringly incon- 
sistent with their pretended date. The fa£t is, we have, here, 
foisted upon us, a close imitation o/Xowley, [vide //^Mis- 
tress) who was not born till the year 1618. ..two centuries 
alter the ./Era in question. Chaucer died a. d. 1400 ; and 
Henry the Fifth (who v/as King only 9 years, 5 months, and 
\ 1 days) began his reign scarcely 13 years after the death of 
that Poet. Sir Thomas, then, must, at least, have written in 
the obsolete phraseology of Chaucer.. .and, probably, would 
have imitated him. ..as did Lidgate, Occleve, and others :... 
Nay, Harding, Skelton, &c. who were, fifty or sixty year$ 



58 



Ringlets, that to her Breast descend, 
Increase the beauties they invade ; 

Thus branches in luxuriance bend, 
To grace the lovely Hills they shade ; 

And, thus, the glowing Climate did entice 

Tendrils to curl, unpruned, o'er Paradise. 



subsequent to Chaucer, were not so modern in their language, 
as their celebrated predecessor. Having, in jew zucrJs, prov- 
ed (it is presumed) this Sonnet to be spurious, an apology 
may be thought necessary for not saying a great deal more ;... 
but this Herculean task is left, in deference, to the disputants 
on Vortigern ; who will, doubtless, engage in it, as a matter 
of great importance, and, once more, lay the world under 
very heavy obligations, with various Pamphlets in Folio, upon 
thesubjeft :... and, surely, too many acknowledgments cannot 
be given to men who are so indefatigably generous in their 
researches, thathalf the resultof them, when published, causes 
even the sympathetic reader to labor as much as the Writer ! 
How ungratefully did Pope say !... 

" There, dim in clcuds, the poring Scholiasts mark, 

Wits, who, like owls, see only in the dark ; 

A lumberhouseof books in every head ; 

re r ever reading, never to be read >.".„ .DunciiJ. 



59 

Sir Thomas having closed his lovesick strain.,. 
Come, buxom Muse ! and let us frisk again ! 

Close to a Chapel, near the Castle gates, 
Dwelt certain Stickers in the Devil's skirts ; 

Who, with prodigious fervor, shave their pates, 
And show a most religious scorn for shirts. 

Their House's sole Endowment was our Knight's :-— 
Thither ah Abbot, and twelve Friars, retreating, 

Conquer'd, sage, pious men ! their appetites, 
With that infallible specific, eating. 

*Twould seem, since tenanted by holy Friars, 

That Peace, and Harmony, reign'd here eternally;—* 

Whoever told you so were cursed liars ; — 
The holy Friars quarrell'd most infernally, 



6o 

Not a day past 
Without some schism, among these heavenly lodgers* 

But, none of their dissentions seem'd to last 
So long as Friar John's, and Friar Rogers. 

I have been very accurate in my researches, 

And find this Convent (truce with ivhys and hoivsj 
Kept in a constant ferment, with the rows 

Of these two, quarrelsome, fat sons of Churches. 

But when Sir Thomas went to his devotions, 
Proceeding thro' their Cloister, with his Bride, 

You never coujd have dream'd of their commotions, 
The stiff rump'd rascals look'd so sanctified ; 



6i 

And it became the custom of the Knight 

To go to matins every day ; — 
He jogg'd his Bride, as soon as it was light, 

Crying, " my dear, 'tis time for us to pray." — 

This custom he established, very soon, 
After his honeymoon. 

res of this age might think his zeal surprising 
But much his pious Lady did it please, 
To see her Hufband, every morning, rising,, 
And going, instantly, upon his knees. 

Never, I ween, 
In any person's recoiled ion, 

Was such a couple seen, 
For genuflection ! 



62 

-"Making as great a drudgery of prayer 
As humble Curates are, obliged to do— 
Whose labor, woe the while ! scarce buys them 
cassocks j— 
And, every morning, whether foul or fair, 
Sir Thomas and the Dame were in their pew, 
Crawthumping, upon hassocks. 

It could not otherwise befall 
(Sir Thomas, and his Wife, this course persuing) 
But that the Lady, affable to all, 
Should greet the Friars, on her way 
To m|fcns, as she met them, every day, 
Good morningingj and hoiu d'ye doings 



63 



Now nodding to this Friar, now to that, 
As thro' the Cloister she was wont to trip ; 
Stopping, sometimes, to have a little chat, 

On casual topics, with the holy brothers ; — 

/ 

/ So condescending was her Ladyship, 

To Roger, John, and all the others. 

All this was natural enough, 

To any female of urbanity ; — 
But holy men are made of as frail stuff 

As all the lighter sons of Vanity ! — 

And, these, her Ladyship's chaste condescend 

In Friar John bred damnable desire ; 
Heteredox, unclean intentions ; i 

Abominable in a Friar ! 



64 



Whene'er tlie greeted him, his gills grew red ; 
While she was quite unconscious of the matter; — 
But he, the beast ! was casting sheeps eyes at her, 
Out of his bullock head. 

That coxcombs 'were and are, I need not gire, 
Nor take the trouble, now, to prove ; 

Nor that those dead, like many, now, who live, 
Have thought a Lady's condescension, lofe. 

This happen'd, with fat Friar John : — 
iMonastic Coxcomb ! amorous, and gummy ! — 
FilPd with conceit, up to his very brim ! — 
He thought his guts and garbage doated on, 
By a fair Dame, whose Husband was to htm 
Hyperion to a mummy. 



65 



Burning with flames the Lady never knew, 
Hotter, and heavier, than toasted cheese. 

He sent her a much warmer billet doux 
Than Abelard e'er writ to Eloi'se. 

But whether Friar John's fat shape and face, 

Tho' pleading both together, 
Were sorry advocates, in such a case ; — 

Or, whether 
He marr'd his hopes, by suffering his pen 

With too much fervor to difplay 'em ; 
As very tender Nurses, now and then, 

Cuddle their Children 'till they overlay 'em ;« 



66 

'Twas plain, his pray'r to decorate the brows 
Of good Sir Thomas was so far from granted, 

That the Dame went, directly, to her spouse, 
And told him what the filthy Friar wanted. 

Think, Reader ! think ! if thou hast ta'en, for life, 
A partner to thy bed, for worse or better, 

Think what Sir Thomas felt, when his chaste wife 
Brandish'd, before his eyes, the Friar's letter ! 

He felt, Sir—Zounds ! 

Yes, Zounds, I say, Sir — for it makes me swear- 
More torture than he suffer'd from the wounds 
He got, among the French, in France ; — 
Not that I take upon me to advance 
The knight was ever wounded there. 



6 7 



Think gravely, Sir, I pray ; — fancy the knight— 
('Tis quite a Picture) — with his heart's delight I 
Fancy you see his virtuous Lady stand, 
Holding the Friar's foulness in her hand !— 

How should Sir Thomas, Sir, behave ? 
Why bounce, and sputter, surely, like a squib :— 

You would have done the same, Sir, if a knave, 
A frowzy Friar, meddled with your Rib. 

His bosom almost burst with ire, 
Against the Friar ! 



68 

Rage gave his face an apoplectic hue ; 
His cheeks turn'd purple, and his nose turn'd blue ; 

He swore with this mock Saint* he'd soon be even ; 
He'd have him flay'd, like Saint Bartholomew ; — 

And, now again, he ; d have him stoned, like Stephen. 

But, a Ira furor brewis est y ,f 

As Horace, quaintly, has express'd j— ^ 

Therefore the knight, finding his foam and froth 
Work thro' the bunghole of his mouth, like beer, 

Pull'd out the ventpeg of his wrath, 
To let the stream of his .revenge run clear : 

Debating, with himself, what mode mjght suit him, 
To trounce the rogue:who wanted to cornute him. 



69 



First, an attack against his Foe he plann'd, 
Learn'd in the Field, where late he fought, so felly 

That is — to march up, bravely, sword in hand, 
And run the Friar thro' his holy belly. 

At last, his better judgment did declare' — 
Seeing his honor would as little shine 
By sticking Friars as by killing swine — 

To circumvent him, by a ruse de guerre : 

And, as the project ripen'd in his head, 
Thus to his virtuous Wife he said : — 

" Now sit thee down, my Lady bright ! 

And list thy Lord's desire ; 
An assignation thou shalt write, 

Beshrcw me ! to the Friar. 



7 o 

Aread him, at the midnight horny 

In silent sort to go, 
And bide thy coming, in the Bower— 

For there do Crabsticks grow. 

He shall not tarry long ; — for why ? 

When Twelve have striking done, 
Then, by the God of Gardens ! * I 

Will cudgel him till One." 

* If the Knight knew the aptness, in its full extent, of his 
oath, upon this occasion, we must give him more credit for 
his reading than we are willing to allow to military men of 
the age in which he flourish 'd :...for, observe : He vows to 
cudgel a man lurking to rob his Lady of her Virtue, in a 
bower ;...how appropriately, therefore, does he swear by the 
God of the Gardens ! who is, represented with a kind of cudgel 
(falx lignea) in his right hand ; and is, moreover, furnish' d 
with another weapon of formidable dimensions, (Horace 
calls it Palus, for the express purpose of annoying Robbers. 

" Fures dextra coercet, 
Obscxrtogue ruber porrectus ab inguint Paltu." 



7* 



The Lady wrote just what Sir Thomas told her $ 

For, it is no less strange than true, 

That Wives did, once, what Husbands bid them do j 
Lord ! how this World improves, as we grow older \ 

She named the midnight hour ; — 

Telling the Friar to repair 

To the sweet, secret Bower j — 

But not a word of any crabsticks there. 



It must be confess'd that the laft mention'd attribute of 
this Deity was stretch'd forth to promote pleasure, in some 
instances, instead of fear ; ...for it was a sportive custom, in 
the hilarity of recent marriages, to seat the Bride upon his 
Palus ;...but this circumstance by no means disproves its ef- 
ficacy as a dread to Robbers ; on the contrary, that imple- 
ment must have been peculiarly terrific, which could sus- 
tain the weight of so many Brides, without detriment to its 
firmness, or elasticy. 



72 



Thus have I seen a liquorish, black rat, 

Lured by the Cook, to sniff, and smell her bacon j 

And, when he's eager for a bit of fat, 

Down goes a trap upon him, and he's taken. 

A tiny Page—for, formerly, a boy 
Was a mere dunce who did not understand 

The doctrines of Sir Pandarus, of Troy. 

Slipp'd the Dame's note into the Friar's hand, 
As he was walking in the cloister ; 

And, then, slipp'd off— as silent as an oyster. 

The Friar read ;— the Friar chuckled :— 
For, now the Farce's unities were right : 

Videlicet— -The Argument, a Cuckold ; 
The Scene, aBow'r ; Time, Twelve o'clock; at night, 



73 



Blithe was fat John !— and dreading no mishap,, 

Stole, at the hour appointed, to the trap ; 
But, so perfumed, so musk'd, for the occasion — 
His tribute to the nose so like invasion — 

You would have sworn, to smell him, 'twas no rat,. 

But a dead, putrified, old civet cat. 

He reach'd the spot, anticipating blisses, 
Soft murmurs, melting sighs, and burning kisses, 
Trances of joy, and mingling of the souls ; 
When, whack ! Sir Thomas hit him on the jowls. 

Now, on his head it came, now on his face, 

His neck and shoulders, arms, legs, breast and back 3. 

In short, on almost every place 
We read of in the Almanac. 



m 



74 

Blows rattled on him thick as hail ; 

Making him rue the day that he was born ;r-~ 
Sir Thomas plied his cudgel like a flail, 
And thrash'd as if he had been thrashing corn* 

At length, a thump — (painful the facts, alas ! 
Truth urges us Historians to relate !) — 
Took Friar John so smart athwart the pate, 
It acted like a perfect coup de grace. 

Whether it was a random shot, 

Or'aim'd maliciously — tho' Fame says not-* 

Certain his soul (the Knight socrack'd his crown) 

Fled from his body ; but which way it went, 
Or whether Friars souls fly up, or down, 

Remains a matter of nice argument. 



75 

Points so abstruse I dare not dwell upon- j 
Enough, for me, his body is not gone ; — > 

For I have business, still, in my narration, 
With the fat carcase of this holy porpus ; 

And Death, tho' sharp in his Administration-^. 
Never suspended such a Habeas Corpus* 



END OF TART J< 



THE 



KNIGHT and the FRIAR. 



PART THE SECOND. 



XvEADER ! if you have Genius, you'll" discover, 

Do what you will to keep it cool, 
It, now and then, in spite of you, boils overy 
Upon a fool. 

Haven't you (lucky man if not) been vex'd, 

Worn, fretted, and perplex'd, 
By a pert, busy, would be clever knave, 
A forward, empty, self sufficient slave ? 



77 

And haven't you, all christian patience gone, 
At last, put down the puppy, with your wit ; — 

On whom it seem'd, tho' you had Mines of it, 
Extravagance to spend a jest upon ? — 

And haven't you, (I'm sure you have, my friend !) 

When you have laid the puppy low- 
All little pique, and malice, at an end, 

Been sorry for the blow ? — 
And said, (if witty, so- would say your Bard) 
*' Damn it ! I hit that meddling fool too hard 

Thus did the brave Sir Thomas say ;-- 

Whose Genius did'nt much disturb his pate ; 
It, rather, in his bones, and muscles, lay- 
many other mens' of good estate : 



7 8 



Tims did Sir Thomas say ; — and well he might, 
Wiien pity to resentment did succeed ; 

For, Certainly, (tho' not with wit) the Knight 
Had hit the Friar very hard, indeed ! 

And heads, nineteen in twenty, 'tis coafest, 

Can feel a crabstick sooner than a jest. 

There was, in the Knight's family, a man 

Cast in the roughest mould Dame Nature boasts ; 

With shoulders wider than a dripping pan, 
And legs as thick, about the calves, as posts. 

All the domestics, viewing, in this hulk, 
So large a specimen of Nature's whims, 

With kitchen wit, allusive to his bulk, 
Had christen'd him the Duke of Limbs. 



79 

Thro'out the Castle, every whippersnapper 
Was canvassing the merits of this strapper : 
Most of the Men voted his size alarming ; 
But all the Maids, nem. con. declared it charming \ 

This wight possess'd a quality most rare ; — * 
I tremble when I mention it, I swear ! 

Lest pretty Ladies question my veracity : 
*Twas — when he had a secret in his care, 

To keep it, with the greatest pertinacity. 

Pour but a secret in him, and 'twould-glue him 
Like rosin, on a wellcork'd bottle's snout ; 

Had twenty devils come with corkscrews to him, 
They never could have screw'd the secret out. 



8o 

Now, when Sir Thomas, in the dark, alone, 
Had kill'd a Friar, weighing twenty stone, 

Whose carcase must be hid, before the dawn, 
Judging he might as hopelessly desire 
To move a Convent as the Friar, 

He thought on this man's secrecy, and brawn ; — 
And, like a swallow, o'er the lawn he skims, 
Up to the Cockloft of the Duke of Limbs : 

Where Somnus, son of Nox, the humble copy 
Of his own daughter Mors,* had made assault 

On the Duke's eyelids — not with juice of poppy, 
But potent draughts, distill'd from hops, and malt. 



* There is a terrible jumble in Somnus's family. He was 
the Son of Nox, by Erebus ;...and Erebus, according to dif- 
ferent accounts, was not only Nox's husband, but her broth- 
er.. .and even her son, by Chaos :... and Mors was daughter 
of Somnus, by that devil of a Goddess Nox, the mother of 
his father, and himself !.,.Thc heathen Dcuiss held c 



Si 

Certainly, nothing operates much quicker 
Against two persons secret dialogues, 

Than one of them being asleep in liquor, 
Snoring like twenty thousand hogs. 

Yet circumstance did, pressingly, require 

The Knight to tell his tale ; 

And to instruct his Man, knock'd down with ale, 
That he (Sir Thomas) had knock'd down a Friar. 

How wake a man in such a case ? 
Sir, the best method — I have tried a score—- 

Is, when his nose is playing thoro' bass, 
To pull it, till you make him roar 

nonical notions in utter contempt ; and mull Lave Iaugh'd at 
the idea (which, surely, nobody does know) of forbidding 
a man to marry his Grandmother, 



82 



A Sleeper's nose is made on the same plan 

As the small wire 'twixt a Doll's wooden thighs ; 

For pull the nose, or wire, the Doll, or Man, 
Will open, in a minute, both their eyes. 

This mode Sir Thomas took — and, in a trice, 
Grasp'd, with his thumb and finger, like a vice, 
That feature which the human face embosses, 
And pull'd the Duke of Limbs by the proboscis. 

The Man awoke, and goggled on his master ; — 
He saw his Master goggling upon him ;— 
Fresh from concluding on a Friar's nob, 
What Coroners would call an awkward job, 
He glared, all horror struck and grim- 
Paler than Paris plaister ! 



3,3 



His hair stuck up, like bristles on a pig ; — 

So Garrick look'd, when he perform'd Macbeth ; 
Who, ere he enter'd after Duncan's death, 
Rumpled his wig. 

The Knight cried, " Follow me !" with strange 

grimaces j 

The Man arose — 
And began " sacrificing to the Graces,*" 

By putting on his clothes ; 



* VideLoxd Chesterfield's Letters.... This noble Author, by 
the bye, has set his dignified face against risibility. It would 
be well for us poor devils, who call ourselves Comic Writ- 
ers, if our efforts were always as successful in raising a Laugh? 
as his Lordfhip's cenfure upon it, 



8 4 



But he reversed, in making himself smart, 

A Scotchman's toilet, altogether : 
And merely clapp'd a cover on that part 

The Highlanders expose to wind and weather. 

They reach'd the bower where the Friar lay ; 

When, to his Man, 

The Knight began, 
In doleful accents, thus to say : 

" Here a fat Friar lies, kill'd with a mawling, 
For coming, in the dark, a catterwauling j 

Whom I (O cursed spite !) did lay so !" 
Thus, solemnly, Sir Thomas spake, and sigh'd ;— 
To whom the Duke of Limbs replied — 

" Odratjbit it ! Sir Thomas ! you don't say so 



r»> 



§5 



Then, taking the hugh Friar per the hocks, 

He whirl'd the ton of blubber three times round, 
And swung it on his shoulders, from the ground, 
With strength that yields, in any age, to no man's, 
Tho' Milo's ghost should rise, bearing the Ox 
He carried at the games of the old Romans. 

Nay, I opine— let Fame say what it can— 
Of ancient vigor, (Fame is, oft, a Liar) 

That Milo was a pigmy to this Man, 
And his fat Ox quite skinny to the Friar. 

Besides— I hold it much in dcubt 

If Roman graz'eis (should the truth come out) J 



86 

Were, like the English, knowing in the matter ;— 

— I wouldn't breed my beast more Romano ; 
For, I suspect, in fatt'ning they were dull, 
And when they made an ox out of a bull, 
They fed him ill — and, then, he got no fatter 
Than a fat opera Soprano.* 

Over the moat, (the drawbridge being down) 
Gallantly stalk'd the brawny Duke of Limbs, 

Fearing Johannes, of the shaven crown, 
Famed, when alive, for spoiling maids, and hymns ; 
For mangling Pater Nosters, and goosepies, 
And telling sundry beads — and sundry lies. 

* I am aware that much has been said, of old, relative to 
the " cura bourn,' 1 and the " optuma torvozforma bovis /"...but, 
for a show of cattle, I would back Smithfield, or most of 
our English market Towns, against any forum boarium, of the 
Romans. 



8 7 



Across a marsh he strode, with steadier gait 
Than Satan trod the Syrtis, at his fall, 

And perch'd himself, with his monastic weight, 
Upon the Convent garden's wall j — 

Whence, on the grounds within it, as he gazed, 
To find a spot where he might leave his load, 

He 'spied ■>. Houfe so little, it seem'd raised 

? j for Man's visits, than his fix'd abode ; — 

And Cynthia aided him to gaze his fill, 

For, now, she sought Endymion, on the hilJ, 

Arise, Tarquinius ! # show thy lofty face ! 
While I describe, with dignity, the place. 



* Tarquinius Superbus, the last King of Rome ;...he was * 
haughty Monarch, and built the Cloaca maxima. 



88 



Snug, in an English garden's shadiest spot, 

A Structure stands, and welcomes many a breeze j 

Lonely, and simple as a Ploughman's cot, 
Where Monarch's may unbend, who wish for ease, 

There sit Philosophers ; and sitting read : 
And to some end apply the dullest pages ; 

And pity the Barbarians, north of Tweed, 
Who scout these fabrics of the southern Sages. 

Sure, for an Edifice in estimation, 

Never was any less presuming seen ! 
It shrinks, so modestly, from observation 1 

And hides behind all sorts of evergreen j 

Like a coy Maid, design'd for filthy Man, 
Peeping, at his approach, behind her fan. 



8 9 



Into this place, unnoticed by beholders, 
The Duke of Limbs, most circumspectly, stole, 

And shot the Friar off his shoulders, 
Just like a sack of round Newcastle coal : 

Not taking any pains, 

Nor caring, in the least, 
How he deposited the Friar's remains, 

No more than if a Friar were a beast, 

No funeral, of which you ever heard, 
Was mark'd with ceremonies half so slight ; 

For John was left not like, the dead interr'd, 
But like the living, sitting bolt upright ! 



9° 

Has no shrewd Reader, of one sex or t'other, 
Recurring to the facts, already, stated, 

Thought on a certain Roger ? — that same brother 
Who hated John, and whom John hated ? 

} Tis, now, a necessary thing to say 

That, at this juncture, Roger wasn't well ; 
Poor Man ! he had been rubbing, all the day, 
His stomach with coarse towels ; 
And clapping trenchers, hot as hell, 
Upon his bowels ; 
Where spasms were kicking up a furious frolic, 
Afflicting him with mulligrubs, and colick. 

He, also, had imbibed, to sooth his pains, 
Of pul-vis rkei very many grains ; 



91 

And to the garden's deepest shade was bent, 
To give, quite privily, his sorrows vent : 

When, there — alive and merry to appearance- 
He 'spied his ancient foe, by the moon's light !— ■ 

Who sat erect, with so much perseverance, 
It look'd as if he kept his post in spite. 

A case it is of piteous distress 

If, carrying a secret grief about, 
We wish to bury it, in a recess, 

And find another there, who keeps us out. 

Expecting, soon, his enemy to go, 
Roger, at first, walk'd to an fro, 



9 2 

With tolerably tranquil paces ; 
But finding John determined to remain, 
Roger, each time he pass'd, thro' spite, or pain. 

Made, at his adversary, hideous faces. 

How Misery will lower human pride ! 

And make us buckle ! — 
Roger, who, all his life, had John defied, 

Was now obliged to speak him fair — and truckle, 

" Behold me," Roger cried, "behold me, John ! 
Intreating as a favor you'll be gone ; 

Me ! your sworn foe, tho' fellow lodger ; 
Me ! — who, in agony, tho' suing now to you, 
Would, once, have seen you damn'd ere make a bow t<$ 
you, 

Me—Roger!*" 

* This is a palpable plagiarism. Rolla thus addresses Pi~ 
zarro : « Behold me } at thy feet.,.M$„. .&>//<* !..,Me; that never 



93 

To this address, so fraught with the pathetic, 
John remain'd dumb, as a Pythagorean ; 
Seeming to hint, " Roger, you're a plebeian Peri- 
patetick." 

When such choice oratory has not hit, 
When it is, e'en, unanswered by a grunt; 

3 Twould justify tame Job to curse a bit, 
And set an Angler swearing, in his punt, 

Choleric Roger could- not brook it ; — 
So seeing a huge brick bat, up he took it ; 



yet have bent or low , d... % .in humble agony I fue to you."..,. 
The theft is more glaring, as the Apostrophe, both here, and 
in the original, occurs in the midst of a strong incident, and 
is address'd to an Enemy by a proud spirit, in very moving 
circumstances. 



94 

And aiming, like a marksman at a crow, 
Plump on the breast he hit his deadly foe ; 
Who fell, like Pedants' periods, to the ground — 
Very inanimate, and very round. 

Here is another Picture, reader mine ! — 
I gave you one in the first Canto ; * — 
This is more solemn, mystical, and fine — 
Like something in the Castle of Otranto. 

Bring, bring me, now, a Painter, for the work, 
Who on the subject will, with furor, rush !. 

Some Artist who can sup upon raw pork, 

To make him dream of horrors, for his brush • 



*Vidc Part I, page 67, four firft lines. 



95 



Come, Limners, come ! who choke your house's entry 
With dear, unmeaning lumber, from your easels; 

Dull heads of the Nobility, and Gentry ; 
Full lengths of fubsey Belles, or Beaux like weasels ! 

Come, Limners, hither come ! and draw 
A finer incident than e'er ye saw ! 

Here is a John, by moon light, (a fat Monk) 
Lying stone dead ; and, here, a Roger, quick f 

And, over John, stands Roger, in a funk, 
Supposing he has kill'd him, with a brick! 

There, Painters ! there ! 
Now, by Apelles's gamboge, I swear ! 



9 6 



'Such a dead subject never comes, 

Among those lifeless living ye display ; 
Then, thro' your palettes thrust your graphic thumbs, 
And work away ! 

Seeing John dead as a door nail, • 

Roger began to wring his hands, and wail ; 
Calling himself, Beast, Butcher, cruel Turk » 

Thrice " Benedicite I" he mutterd ; 

Thrice, in the eloquence of grief, he utter'd, 
et I've done a pretty job of journey work I 

Some people will show symptoms of repentance 
When Conscience, like a chastening Angel, smites 
r em ; 

Some from mere dread of the Law's sentence, 
When Newgate, like the very Devil, frights 'em :-*■ 



97 

That Virtue's struggles, in the heart, denotes, 
This Vice's hints, to men's left ears, and throats, 

Nov/ Roger's conscience, it appears, 
Was not, by half, so lively as his fears, 

His breast, soon after he was born, 
Grew like an Hostler's lanthorn, at an Inn ; — ■ 

All the circumference was dirty horn, 
And feebly blink/d the ray of warmth within. 

In short, for one of his religious function, 
His conscience was both cowardly and callous ; 

No melting Cherub whisper'd to't '•' Compunction ! n 
But grim Jack Ketch disturb'd it, crying " Gallows 1" 
c- 



98 



•And all his sorrow, for this deed abhorir'd, 
Was nothing but antipathy to cord. 

A padlock'd door stood in the garden wall, 
Where John, by Roger's brickbat, chanced to fall, 

And Roger had a key that could undo it j 
Thro' this same door, at any time of day, 
They brought, into the Convent, corn, and hay ;— 

Sometimes, at dusk, a pretty girl came thro'. it : 
Just to confess herself, to some grave codger ; 
•Perhaps, she came to John — perhaps, to Roger. 

Out at this portal Roger made a shift 

To lug his worst of foes ; 
For, seizing (as the gout was wont) his toes, 
He dragg'd the load he couldn't lift. 



99 

Achilles, thus, drew round the Trojan plain, 
The ten years' Adversary he had slain. — 

Yet— for I scorn a Grecian to disparage — 

Achilles in more style, and splendor, did it ; 
He sported Murder strapp'd behind his carriage— • 
But bourgeois Roger sneak'd on foot, and hid it, 

Roger, however, labor'd on- 
Puffing, and tugging ;— 
And hauling John, 

As fishermen, on shore, haul up a boat ; — 
Till, after a great deal of lugging, 

He-lugg'd him to the edge of the Knight's moat ; 



lOO 

And stuck him up so straight upon Ins rear, 
Touching, almost the water, with his heels, 

That the defunct might pass, not seen too near, 
For some fat gentleman who bobb'd for eels. 

Swiftly did Roger, then, retrace his ground, 
Lighter than he came out, by many a pound. 

So have I seen, on Marlb'rough downs, a hack, 
Eased of a great man's chaise, and coming back, 

From Biadud's springs, upon the western road ; 
No bleated Noble's luggage at his rump, 
Whose doom's, that dread of pickpockets, the pump, 

He canters home, from Bath, without his load. 



lOl 

Sir Thomas being scrupulous, and queasy, 
Could'nt, in all this interval, be easy. 

He went to bed ; — and, there, began to burn j 

Nine times he turn'd, in wond'rous perturbation ;— 

He woke her Ladyship, at every turn — 
And gave her, full nine times, complete vexation. 

To seek the Duke of Limbs, at length, he rose, 

And prowl'd with him, lamenting Fortune's stripes ; 

Now in the rookery, among the crows, 
Now squashing in the marsh, among the snipes : 

Wishing strange wishes ; — among many, 

He wish'd— ere he had clapp'd his eyes on any, 



102 

All Priests, and Crabsticks, thrown into the fire j — 
Or, seeing Providence, ordain'd it so, 
That Priest, and Crabstick, (to his grief) must grow, 

He wish'd stout Crabstick couldn't kill fat Friar. 

Men's wishes will be partial, now and then ;— - 

As, in this case, 'tis plainly seen ; 

Wherein, Sir Thomas, full of fpleen, 
Wish'd to burn all the Crabs, and Clergymen. 

Think ye that be— at wishing tho' a dab- 
To wish such harm to any Knight would urge ye ? 

Yet he, a Knight, had taken up a Crab, 
And thump' d to death, with it, one of the Clergy. 



1G3 



As he went wishing on, 
With the great Duke of Limbs behind him— 

Horror on horror ! — he saw John, 
Where least of all he ever thought to find him I 

Stuck up, an end, in placid grace, 
Like a stuff' d Kangaroo — tho' vastly fatter — 

With the full moon upon his chubby face, 
Like a brass potlid, shining on a planter. 

«< 'Sdeath!" quoth the Knight, of half his powers bereft, 
Didst thou not tell me "where this Friar was left ? 

Men rise again, to push us from our stools!*" 
To which the Duke replied, with steady phiz — 
" Them as took pains to push that Friar from his, 

At such a time o'night, was cursed fools." 

. * Shakefpeare, certainly, borrow'd this expression frjm Sir 
Thomas, -.See Macbeth* 



io4 

" Ah !" sigh'd Sir Thomas, " while I wander here, 
By Fortune stamp'd a Homicide, alas !"— ' 

(And? as he spoke, a penitential tear 
Mingled with Heaven's dewdrops, on the grass ;)- 

" Will no one from my eyes yon Spectre pull ?" 

u Sir Thomas," said the Duke of Limbs, "I wool." 

He would have thrown the garbage in the moat, 
But the Knight told him, fat was prone to float. 

The Lout, at length, having bethought him, 
Heaved up the Friar on his back once more ; 
And (Castles having armories, of yore) 

Into the Knight's old Armory he brought him. 



io5 

Among the gorgeous, shining Coats of Mail, 

That graced the walls, on high, in gallant show- 
As pewter pots, in houses fam'd for ale, 
Glitter, above the Bar maid, in a row — 

A curious, antique suit was hoarded, 

Cover'd with dust j 
Which had, for many years, afforded 

An iron dinner to that ostrich, Rust. 

Though this was all too little— in a minute, 

The Duke of Limbs ramm'd the fat Friar in it j— 

So a good Housewife takes a narrow skin, 

To make black puddings, and stuffs hog's meat in. 



io6 

The Knight, who saw this ceremony pass, 
Inquired the meaning; when the Duke did say— 

" I'll tie him on ould Dumpling, that's at grass, 
And turn him out, a top of the highway." 

This Steed — who, now, it seems, was grazing — 
In the French wars, had often borne the Knight ; 

His symmetry beyond the power of praising, 
And prouder than Bucephalus, in fight ! 

Once, how he paw'd the ground, and snuff- d thegak ! 
Uncropp'd his ears, undock'd his flowing tail ; 

No blemish was within him, nor without him ; 

Perfect he was in every part 3 

No barbarous Farrier, with infernal art, 

Had mutilated the least bit about Urn. . 



ID/ 

Of high Arabian pedigree, 
Father of many four foot babes was he ; 
And sweet, hoofd Beauties, still, would he be rump- 
ling } 
But counting five and twenty, from his birth, 
At grass for life, unwieldy in the girth, 

He had obtain'd, alas ! the name of Dumpling. 

Now, at the postern, stood the gay old Charger j 

Saddled, and housed — in full caparison ! 
Now on his back — no rider larger — 

Upright, and stiff, and Vied with cords, sat John : 
Arm'd cap-a-pie, completely, like a Knight, 
Going to fight. 

A Lance was in the rest, of stately beech ; 

Nothing was wanting, but a Page, or 'Squire ;-— 
TheDuke,withthistles,switch'doldDumpling's breech ; 

And off he clatter'd, with the martial Friar. 



io8 

Now, in the convent let us take a peep — 
Where Roger, like Sir Thomas, couldn't sleep : 

Instead of Zinging requiems, and psalms, 

For fat John's soul, he had been seized with qualms ,• 

Thinking it would be rash to tarry there ;— 
And, having, prudently, resolved on flight, 
Knock'd up a neighb'ring Miller, in the night, 

And borrow J d his grey Mare. 

Thus, trotting off— beneath a row of trees, 
He saw a sight that made his marrow freeze !— 
A furious Warrior follow'd him, in mail, 
Upon a charger, close at his Mare's tail ! 



log 

He cross'dhimself !— and, canting, cried, 

Oh, sadly have I sinned ! — 
Then stuck his heels in tys Mare's side j~ 

And, then, old Dumpling whinny'd ! 

Roger whipp'd, and Roger spurr'd, 

Distilling drops of fear 1 
But while he spurr'd, still, still he heard, 

The wanton Dumpling at his rear. 

'Twas dawn ; — he look'd behind him, in the chace j 
When, lo I the features of fat John — 
His beaver up, and pressing on — 

Glared, ghastly, in the wretched Roger's face 1 



110 

The Miller's mare, who oft had gone the way, 
€ca raper'd with Roger, into Norwich town ; 

And, there, to all the market folks' dismay, 
Old Dumpling beat the mare, with Roger, down. 

Brief let me be ; — the Story soon took air ; — 
For Townsmen are inquisitive, of course, 

When a live Monk rides in upon a Mare, 
Chased by a dead one, arm'd, upon a Horse. 

Sir Thomas up to London sped, full fast, 
To beg his life, and lands, of Royal Harry ; 

And, for his services, in Gallia, past, 
His suit did not miscarry : 

For, in those days — thank Heaven they are mended ! — 

Kings hang'd poor Rogues, while rich ones were be- 
friended. 



Ill 

Ye CmTiCKS,and'yeHYPERCRiTiCKS !— wh© 
Have deign'd (in reading this my story thro') 

A patient, or impatient, ear to lend me — 
If, as I humbly amble, ye complain 
I give my Pegasus too loose a rein, 

'Tis time to call my Betters, to defend me. 

Come, Swift ! who made so merry with the Nine ,• 
With thy far bolder Muse, Oh ! shelter mine ! 

When she is styled a slattern, and a trollop ; — 
Force stubborn Gravity to doff his gloom ; 
Point to thy Caelia, and thy Dressing Room, 

Thy Nymph at bedtime, and thy famed Maw wallop J 

Come Sterne ! — whose prose, with all a Poet's art, 
Tickles the fancy, while it melts the heart ! — 



112 

Since at apologies I ne'er was handy- 
Come, while fastidious Readers run me hard, 
And screen, sly playful wag ! a hapless Bard, 

Behind one volume of thy Tristram Shandy ! 

Ye TivOf alone ! — tho' I could bring a score 
Of brilliant names, and high examples, more — 

Plead for me, when 'tis said I misbehave me ! 
And, Ye, sour Censors ! in your' crabbed fits, 
Who will not let them rescue me as Wits t 

Prithee, as Parsons, suffer 'em to save me \ 



THE 



ELDER BROTHER. 

C^/ENTRICK, in London noke, and London follies, 
Proud Covent Garden blooms, in smoky glorv ; 

For chairmen, coffeerooms, piazzas, dollies, 
Cabbages, and comedians, famed in story ! 

On this gay spot, (upon a sober plan) 
Dwelt a right regular, and staid, young man ;-- 
Much did he early hours, and quiet love ; 
And was entitled Mr. Isaac Shove, 



ii4 

An Orphan he ; — yet rich in expectations, 
(Which nobody seem'd likely to supplant) 

From, that prodigious bore, of all relations, 
A fusty, canting, stiffrump'd Maiden Aunt : 

The wealthy Miss Lucretia Cloghorty — 

Who had brought Isaac up, and owurfd to forty. 

Shove on this maiden's Will relied securely ; 

Who vow'd she ne'er would wed, to mar his riches 5 
Full often would she say, of Men, demurely — 

" I can't abide the filthy things in breeches I" 

He had Apartments up two pair of stairs ; 

Cq the first floor lodged Doctor Crow ; — 
The Landlord was a torturer of hairs, 

And made a grand display of wigs, below ; 
From the beau's Brutus, to the parson's grizzle : — 
Cver the doorway was his name ; — 'twas Twizzle, 



ii5 

Now, you must know ? 
This Doctor Crow 
Was not of Law, nor Music, nor Divinity ; — 
He was obstetric ; — but, the fact is, 
He didn't in Lucina's turnpike practice ; 
He took byeroads — reducing Ladies' shapes, 
Who had secured themselves from leading apes, 
But kept the reputation of virginity. 

Crow had a roomy tenement of brick, 

Inclosed with walls, one mile from Hyde Park corner; 
Fir trees, and yews, were planted round it, thick ;-— 

No situation was forhrner !* 
Yet, notwithstanding folks might scout it, 
It suited qualmish Spinsters, who fell sick, 
And did'nt wish the world to know about it. 

* This seems to ha a new comparative ; for which the Au- 
thor takes to himself due credit :... Novelty being scarce, i 
poetical compositions. 



n6 

Here many a single gentlewoman came, 
Pro tempore — full tender of her fame ! 
Who, for a while, took leave of friends in town— 
" Business, forsooth ! to Yorkshire call'd her 
down, 
Too weighty to be settled by Attorney !" — 
And, in a month's or six week's time, came back .; 
When every body cried, " Good lack ! 
How monstrous thin you've grown, upon your 
journey !" 

The Doctor, knowing that a puff of Scandal 
Would blow his private trade to tatters, 

Dreaded to give the smallest handle 
To those who dabble in their neighbors' matte r*4 



fi 



i if 

Therefore, he, wisely, held it good 
To hide his practice from the neighborhood ;- 
And net appear, there, as a resident ; 
But merely one who, casually, went 
To see the lodgers, in the large brick house ! — 
To lounge, and chat, not minding time a sense ; — ■ 
Like one to whom all business was quite foreign ; — 
And, thus, he visited his female sick ; 

Who lay as thick, 
Within his tenement of brick, 
As rabbi 's in a warren. 

He lodged in Covent Garden, all the while, 
And, if they sent, in haste, for his assistance^ 

Ke soon was with 'em — 'twas no mighty distance — • 
From the town's end it was but a bare mile, 



n8 

Now Isaac Shove, 
Living above 

This Doctor Crow, 
And knowing Barber Twizzle lived below, 

Thought it might be as well, 
Hearing so many knocks, single and double, 
To buy, at his own cost, a streetdoor bell, 
And save confusion, in the house, and trouble ,* 

Whereby, his (Isaac's) visitors might know, 

Without long waiting in the dirt, and drizzle, 
To ring for him at once'; — and not to knock for Crow— 
Nor Twizzle. 

Beside?, he now began to feel 
The want of it was rather ungcntecl; . 



n 9 

For he had, often, thought it a disgrace 
To hear, while sitting in his room, above, 

Twizzle's shrill maid, on the first landing place, 
Screaming, " a man below vants Mister Shove !" 

The Bell was bought ; the wire was made to steal 
Round the dark staircase, like a tortured eel — 

Twisting, and twining ; 
The jemmy handle Twizzle's doorpost graced, 
And, just beneath, a brazen plate was placed, 

Lacquer'd and shining -,— 

Graven whereon, in characters f jll clear, 
And legible, did " Mr. Shove" appear ; 
And, furthermore, which you might read right well 
Was " Please to wnncr the bell." 



120 

At half past ten, precisely, to a second, 
Shove, every night, his supper ended j 
And sipp'd his glass of negus, till he reckon'd, 
By his stopwatch, exactly, one more quarter ; 
Then, as exactly, he untied one garter ; — 
A token 'twas that he for bed intended : 

Yet, having, still, a quarter good before him,. 
He leisurely undress'd before the fire — 
Contriving, as the quarter did expire, 

To be as naked as his mother bore him ; 

Eating his shirt, and nightcap on his head ; — 
Then, as the watchman bawl'd eleven, 

He had one foot in bed, 
More certainly than cuckolds go to Heaven.' 



121 

Alas ! what pity 'tis tiiat regularity, 
Like Isaac Shove's, is such a rarity ! 
But there are swilling Wights, in London town, 

Term'd — Jolly dogs — Choice Spirits — alias,Sw'me ; 
Who pour, in midnight revel, bumpers down, 
Making their throats a thoroughfare for. wine. 

These spendthrifts, who Life's pleasures, thus, outrun, 
Dosing, with headaches, till the afternoon, 

Lose half men's regular estate of Sun, 
By borrowing, too largely, of the Moon, 

One of this kidney— Toby Tosspot hight— 
Was coming from the Bedford, late at night: 



122 

And being Bdcch i plenus — full of wine—. 
Although he had a tolerable notion 
Of aiming at progressive motion 
'Twasn't direct — 'twas serpentine. 
He work'd, with sinuosities, along, 

Like Monsieur Corkscrew, worming thro' a Cork ; 
Notftraight, like Corkscrew's proxy, stiff Don Prong, 
A Fork. 

At length, with, near, four bottles in his pate, 
He saw the moon shining on Shove's brass plate ; 

When reading " Please to ring the bell," 

And being civil, beyond measure, 
" Ring it !" Says Toby — " very well ; 

I'll ring it with a deal of pleasure." 



123 

Toby, the kindest soul in all the town, 
Gave it a jerk that almost jerk'd it down. 
He waited full two minutes ; no one came ; 

He waited full two minutes more ; — and then — 
Says Toby, " if he's deaf, I'm not to blame j 

I'll pull it for the gentleman again. 5> 

But the first peal 'woke Isaac, in a fright, 

Who, quick as lightning, popping up his head, . 
Sat on his head's Antipodes^ in bed — ■ 
Pale as a parsnip — bolt upright. 

At length, he, wisely, to himself did. say — 

Calming his fears — 
"Tush ! 'tis some fool has rung, and run away ;"- 
When peal the second rattled in his ears ! 



124 

Shove jinnp'd into the middle of the floor ; 

And, trembling at each breath of air that stirr'd, 
He groped down stairs, and oren'd the street deer, 
While Toby was performing peal the third. 

Isaac eyed Toby, fearfully askant — 

And saw he was a strapper — stout and tall ; 

Then, put this question ; — "Prr.y,Sir,what d'ye want ? 5V 
Says Toby — " I want nothing, Sir, at all." 

" Want nothing! — sir, you've pull'd my bell, I vow, 

As if you'd jerk it off the wire !" 
Quoth Toby, gravely making him a bow — 
" I pull'd it, Sir, at ycur des : re," 



125 

*** At mine !" — "Yes your's — I hope I've done it weli ; 

High time for bed, Sir ; I was hast'ning to it ; 
But if you write up please to ring the belly 

Common politeness makes me stop, and do it." 

Isaac, now, waxing wroth apace, 
'Slamm'd the street door in Toby's face, 

With all his might ; 
And Toby, as he shut it, swore 
He was a dirty son of— something more 

Than delicacy suffers me to write : 

'And, lifting up the knocker, gave a knock, 

So long, and loud, it might have raised the dead $ 

Twlzzle declares his house sustain'd a shock, 
•Snousrh to shake his lodgers out of bed. 



126 

Toby, his rage thus vented in the rap, 
\\ent serpentining home, to take his nap. 

'Tis, now, high time to let you know 
That the obstetric Doctor Crow 
Awoke in the beginning of this matter, 
By Toby's tititinnabulary clatter : 

-And, knowing that the bell belong'd to Shove, 
He* isten'd in his bed, but did not move ; 
He only did apostrophize— 
Sending to hell 
Shove, and his bell, 
That would'nt let him close his eyes, 



12 7 



"ISut when he heard a thundering knock — says he, 
" That's, certainly, a messenger for me j — 

Somebody ill, in the Brick House, no doubt ;"— > 
Then mutter'd, hurrying on his drefling gown, 
" I wish my Ladies, out of town, 

Chose more convenient times for crying out !" 

Crow, in the dark, now, reach'd the staircase head \ 
Shove, in the dark, was coming up, to bed. 
A combination of ideas flocking, 

Upon the pericranium of Crow — 
Occasion'd by the hasty knocking, 

Succeeded by a foot he heard below ;— 

-He did, as many folks are apt to do, 

Who argue in the dark, and in confusion ; 
.That is, from the hypothesis, he drew 
-A false conclusion ; 



128 

Concluding Shove to be the person sent, 
With an express, from the brick tenement ; 
Whom Barber Twizzle, torturer of hairs, 
Had, civilly, let in, and sent up stairs. 

As Shove came up, tho' he had, long time, kept 
His character, for patience, very laudably, 

He could'nt help, at every step he stepp'd, 

Grunting, and grumbling in his gizzard, audibly ; 

For Isaac's mental feelings, you must know, 

Not only were considerably hurt, 
But his corporeal, also — 

Having no other clothing than a shirt ; 
A dress, beyond all doubt, most light and airy, 
It being, then, a frost in January. 



129 

When Shove was deep down stairs, the Doctor heard, 

(Being much nearer the stair top) 
Just here and there, a random word, 

Of the Soliloquies that Shove let drop ; — 

But, shortly, by progression, brought 
To contact nearer, 

The Doctor consequently, heard him clearer— 
And then the fag end of this sentence caught j 

Which Shove repeated warmly, tho' he shiverd :— . 

" Damn Twizzle's house ! and damn the Bell ! 

And damn the Fool who rang it ! — Well, 
From all such plagues I'll quickly be deliver'd," 

T 



13° 



*' What ?— quickly be deliver'd !" echoes Crow ;— 
" Who is it ? — Come, be sharp — reply, reply ; 

Who wants to be deliver'd ? let me know." 
Recovering his surprife, Shove answer'd, "I j" 

" You be deliver' d I" Says the Doctor—" 'Sblood !» 
Hearing a man's gruff voice — " You lout ! you lob !" 

c< You be deliver'd ! — Come, that's very good !" 
Says Shove, " I will, so help me Bob !" 

" Fellow,'' cried Crow, "you're drunk with filthy beer j 
A drunkard, fellow, is a brute's next neighbor ; — 

But Miss Cloghorty's time was very near, 
And, I suppose, Lucretia's, now in labor." 



131 

"Zounds!" bellows Shove, with rage, and wonder 

wild, 
" Why, then, my maiden Aunt is big ivlth child f" 

Here was, at once, a sad discovery made ! 
Lucretia's frolic, now, was past a joke ; — 

Shove trembled, for his Fortune, Crow, his Trade- 
Both, both saw i-Liin — hy on? fatal stroke ! 

But, with his Aunt, when Isaac did discuss, 
She hush'd the matter up, by speaking thus ; — 

" Sweet Isaac !" said Lucretia, " Spare my Fame !— 
Tho', for my babe, I feel as should a mother, 

Your Fortune will continue much the same j 

For — keep the Secret — you're his Eider Brother." 

FINIS. 



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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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